Caius Heathcliff

Hot, heavy breaths. Clothes falling away. Heated skin against heated skin. You couldn’t forget that night even if you tried. You hadn’t meant for it to happen — you really hadn’t — but after getting too drunk at a work event you ran into your neighbor: the same man who always short-circuited your brain, quickened your pulse, and left your cheeks permanently warm. The same man you’d fallen for at first sight.

You’d left the event much later than planned and were so out of it you didn’t notice Caius approaching until a hand clamped on your arm and pulled you away from the road you’d nearly stumbled into. Losing your footing, you found yourself clumsy and breathless in his arms. Irritated, you demanded he let you go. He refused — said you’d fall if he did. You told him again, louder this time, consequences be damned. You warned him you’d count to three and then do something. He didn’t answer, so you started counting.

When you hit three you did the thing neither of you expected: you kissed him. It was short and awkward thanks to your intoxication, and you tried to pull away, but his arm circled your waist, his hand splayed across your lower back, drawing you back into a kiss that was nothing like the first. This one was deeper, surer. His mouth claimed yours, deeper, harder, hungrier. The taste of him overwhelmed you, head spinning, body trembling with a need you didn’t realize you’d been suppressing. Before you knew it, you were in his apartment. Clothes scattered like discarded sins, and when your lips met again the passion stole your breath away.

The next morning you woke in an empty bed. Your sleep-fogged mind didn’t register that it wasn’t your room until you went into the living room and saw bookshelves that weren’t yours. Flashes of last night hit you and panic sent you hunting for your clothes. You slipped out of his shirt and into your own garments, intending to leave before Caius returned.

You were halfway out the door when he came in carrying a plastic bag with breakfast. Your heart clenched and you declined the offer, forcing a smile. “Pretend last night never happened,” you told him, and left before he could answer.

Back in your apartment next door you cursed yourself for drinking too much and avoided his hallway for days. You were doing well — until one afternoon when you arrived at the building at the same time. Walking toward the elevator, you saw him in your periphery and ducked behind a pillar. Your phone started ringing; you fumbled to turn it off, cursing the poor timing. Relief hit when the music stopped — and then you turned and saw him there, only a few steps away.

You stumbled back, steadied yourself, and opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off. “Please stop avoiding me,” he said. “I’ll forget what happened between us. Just stop pretending I don’t exist.” Then he turned to walk away.

You stood frozen for a moment, then chased after him, catching up just as he reached his door. You wedged your foot in to stop it closing and tried to speak, but he held the handle, ready to go. Your chest burned with something you couldn’t ignore, so you pushed your hesitation down and stepped inside, closing the door behind you.

You drew a breath and stared at his unreadable, undeniably handsome face. You began to explain that you’d told him to pretend the night didn’t happen because you couldn’t remember everything and were too embarrassed to admit it. He laughed — and when you questioned why he wasn’t angry, he said, quietly, “I don’t act impulsively. My actions are deliberate. I didn’t sleep with you on a whim. From the day I saw you at the supermarket, I knew you were the one.” He stepped closer, gently pinning you near the door. “I’ll make sure you remember this.” Then he swept you into a heated kiss. You answered immediately; a warm, electric heat unfurled in the pit of your stomach.

Caius’s mouth devoured yours, deep and unrelenting, his tongue tangling with yours until your knees threatened to give out. His hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips, tugging you tighter against the hard length pressing insistently through his jeans.You gasped into the kiss, your fingers twisting in his shirt, desperate for more.He broke away only long enough to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your throat, nipping at your skin until you whimpered. The ache between your thighs grew unbearable. His hands roamed your body with firm possession, tugging at your clothes until your shirt was gone, tossed carelessly aside.

You barely had time to breathe before his mouth was on your chest, lips wrapping around a hardened peak while his other hand kneaded the other breast. You cried out, hips grinding against his thigh, desperate for friction. He groaned against your skin, the sound vibrating through you. “Look at you,” he murmured, lifting his head, his eyes dark with lust. “So fucking perfect.

Before you knew it, he had lifted you, carrying you to his bed with effortless strength. He set you down gently, almost reverently, before joining you. The weight of him above you, the warmth of his body pressing down, made your chest ache with something more than just desire. It was deeper, fiercer — a connection you couldn’t deny.

Then his hand slipped down, unbuttoning your pants with skilled fingers. He pushed them down, along with your underwear, leaving you bare before him.The cool air made you shiver — until his fingers slid through your slick folds, stroking you slowly, deliberately.

Your head hit the pillow with a soft thud, a moan tearing from your throat as he teased your entrance, circling your clit with maddening precision. When his fingers finally slid inside you — one, then two — you gasped, clutching his shoulders for balance. He pumped them steadily, curling just right until your legs shook, until you were trembling and whimpering his name against his neck.